The Family Business
by JesSilver106
Summary: During a routine vampire nest bust, Sam and Dean found a girl used as live feed. The Winchesters attempt to drop her off at a hospital and move on, but the girl's past keeps them together, for better or for worse.
1. Chapter 1

She lay there on the bed wearing a tattered, blood-soaked shirt and torn shorts. She might have had blond hair, but it was so dirty and knotted, it's difficult to tell what color it is. Her eyes were closed and her breathing so shallow her chest barely moved. She slowly woke up, her jaw clenching on the disgusting rag tied in her mouth. Her eyes were glazed and it was evident she was weak to point of death. Besides her initial panic when waking, she seemed calm, too tired to move. Until she heard the footsteps. As they grew louder, she struggled against the restraints on her wrists and ankles that kept her chained to the bed. Her already chafed wrists began to bleed but she didn't seem to notice or care. Her eyes darted around the room, frenzied. A man entered the room; his hair fell to his shoulders and his clothes were dark and mismatched. When he spoke it was in a rasping voice that sent shivers down the poor girl's back.

The man leaned over the girl, shushing her muffled cries. "Hush. It's going to be alright now." He looked at her bleeding wrists and clicked his tongue. "You shouldna done that, girly. But I appreciate the appetizer." He sat on the bed and brought her wrist to his mouth, where he sucked her blood, doing the same for the other wrist. He brushed her mangled hair to show countless, tiny scabs at the base of her neck. An extra row of teeth slid from his gums and he leaned down to bite the girl's neck. She screamed through the rag, her neck on fire. AFter three minutes or so he pulled back, sitting up straight, and yanked a pinkish handkerchief from his pocket, which he used to soak up the blood still oozing from the bite marks. The girl pulled away, tears running down her face.

"You know something, Sweetheart?" The man had stood up and began pacing back and forth in front of the bed. "I'm almost sorry that you're here. It's not really your fault that your daddy killed my little girl and my wife; you can't pick your family. But someone needs to pay for what happened, and right now that's you. You know what I'm gonna do? I'm gonna lure your daddy here, he's gonna hear about all the deaths, all the little girls and boys sucked dry, come here, and meet me and my friends. And we'll see then just who the hunter is. How's that sound?" He went over and untied her gag. "Don't try screaming, no one will hear you anyway."

"You're… crazy…" The girl hadn't talked in over two weeks and her voice was barely more than a whisper. "My dad… is dead… I never knew him And what the heck is a hunter?" The man's face hardened and he drew back his hand and slapped her hard across her face.

"Your father's a murder! And he will pay for what he did to my family." With that, he retied the gag and walked away. "You'll get your food in a bit."

* * *

About six hours later, near five in the morning, Sam and Dean Winchesters stood outside a ramshackle house, each with a machete in their hand.

"You're sure this is it?" Dean turned to Sam, eyes hard. Sam nodded.

"You sure this is what you want to be doing? What with the darkness still around and Crowley doing who knows what?" Sam countered.

Dean looked down at his machete and wiped some dried blood off with his shirt. "Yeah. I know this crap is nothing, just wiping some vamps' nest, but at least we're doing something good instead of sitting around the bunker trying to figure this crap out." He looked at Sam. "Kids are dying; let's just focus on fixing that for now." Sam nodded and lead the way into the house.

* * *

"Michael!" A younger vampire, Hannah, ran through the house excited by the strange car outside. "Michael!"

"What Hannah? I'm sleeping." The man, the leader of the nest, was found collapsed on a bed, exhausted from his earlier hunt. The one girl didn't always satisfy, and Michael liked variety.

"Someone's here. There's a black car in the woods out front. Do you think it could be hunters? Maybe even the Winchesters?" The older vampire flew out of bed and to the windows searching the yard. When his eyes landed on the 67 Chevy Impala, he smiled maliciously, and leaned back and laughed coldly. He got up and went to gather everyone together.

"Anybody want a late night snack?" he called from the hallway. One by one doors opened to reveal five vampires in all. Michael looked at each of them carefully. "Our plan has finally come to fruition. Sam and Dean Winchester have decided to pay us a visit. Let's greet them, shall we?"

Sam and Dean entered from the back door, which opened into the kitchen. They moved quietly, years of experience having taught them to walk on the balls of their feet. They made it to the living room without incident, until two vampires jumped them from behind. One had its arms wrapped around Sam's neck and went to bite him. He grabbed the vampire's arms and flipped him onto the ground before slamming the machete's blade down, shearing off the vampire's head.

Meanwhile, Dean had one sitting on top of him, repeatedly punching him. Dean's machete had slipped out of his hand and across the floor during the initial struggle. Sam turned around and swung his blade at the vampire, slicing his head clean off and causing the body to slump forward onto Dean.

"Thanks, Sammy." Dean shoved the still-bleeding body of the vampire to the side before grasping Sam's hand and standing up. He grabbed his machete and they swept the living room for any more vamps before heading upstairs. They split up, each taking one side of the hallway; Sam took the right, Dean took the left. Dean swiftly beheaded two vampires in his second room without issue. Sam, too, took out a vampire before entering Michael's room. After checking the room, he made his way over to the vanity mirror by the window. Taped to the mirror was a picture of a young girl, maybe thirteen, and a middle-age woman. He pulled the picture off the mirror to look at it closer, not paying attention to the bathroom, the one place he'd put off checking until the end. Michael leaped out of the bathroom and at Sam, knocking his machete loose. Michael locked his hands around Sam's neck, screaming.

"You have no right! No right to look at them, to touch that picture! I'm going to kill you for that!" His fangs slid down and just before they sank into his skin, Sam pulled a small knife from his belt. He stabbed it into the vampire's neck, who let go of Sam and stumbled backward, grabbing at the blade poking from his neck. Before he could pull it out, Sam kicked him to his knees, where he yanked the knife from his neck and slumped down. Sam pulled back to cut off his head, but stopped. Michael was trying to say something. He finally gasped out a few wet and garbled words.

"You're… too late… anyway… She's… going to… die." He let out a barking laugh. "He'll have to… kill her…" His laugh was cut short as Sam slammed his machete through the vampire's neck. More than a little disturbed, Sam picked up the picture from the floor where he'd dropped it. He shook his head and pocketed it before sweeping the rest of the rooms on his side.

"Everything alright?" Dean looked up at him curiously.

"Uh… Yeah. Yeah. C'mon, time to find the nest's food."

Down in the basement, Hannah and another vamp, Ryan, were watching the girl and waiting for the others to join them with the Winchesters. Hannah was pacing back and forth, anxious.

"I haven't heard anything. It's been a while. Do you think they're okay?" She turned to Ryan, who was sitting on the bed, licking his lips after a light snack provided by the girl.

"They're fine. It's five to two, maybe they put up a fight and Michael had to put 'em down. Quit worrying." He began to caress the girl, who was too weak to move away as his hand ran over her cheek. "Go check on them if you're worried." Hannah had stopped pacing and was looking intently at Ryan.

"Fine. I will. But don't mess around with her. You know that's not Michael's thing." She stomped up the stairs to the door. Peeking her head around the door, she slipped upstairs. As soon as she was gone, Ryan turned back to the girl.

"Mmm. It's a shame that you and I didn't meet on better turns. I would love to get you know you better." His hand slipped from her cheek to her shoulder. He pulled a knife from his pocket and the girl shrunk away, crying against the gag. Ryan used the knife to cut her shirt down the center, then put it back into his pocket. He leaned over to kiss her, but stopped when he heard a scream. "Hannah?" He stood up and made as if to go to the door. Suddenly, the door burst open, light streaming through the dark basement. Ryan stumbled back, but with no place to run, Dean finished him quickly.

Sam was already at the girl's side, checking her pulse. Dean came over and yanked the gag off before untying her bonds.

"Dude, _one_ live meat? For at least seven vamps? This chick should be dead," Dean said, peering in concern at the girl.

"Yeah, and doesn't look like she was very well taken care of." Sam gestured to the ripped shirt and ribs poking out of her skin. "But she's still alive. We gotta get her to a hospital."

Without hesitation, Dean pulled his jacket off and draped it over the girl's naked-half naked chest before scooping up her emaciated body. Sam took the front, in case they missed a vampire while Dean carried the girl to the Impala. While Dean was gently laying her down in the backseat of Baby, the girl's eyes flickered open to reveal the greenest eyes Dean had ever seen.

"What…" She tried to speak but Dean shushed her.

"You're gonna be okay now, alright? Everything's going to be just fine." He smoothed her hair away from her face. She opened her mouth, trying to say thank you, but Dean shook his head. "Your welcome."


	2. Chapter 2

Dean sped into the hospital parking lot, tires squealing as he turned in, receiving several, warranted dirty looks. He pulled into the emergency parking and Sam jumped out, scooped up the girl, who was still unconscious, and made his way confidently to the desk.

"Hi, yes. I need help. _Now_." Sam demanded of the nurse at the front. She glanced at the bloodied, bruised, sleeping girl before asking if she had any immediate injuries. Sam nodded.  
"Blood loss, she won't stop." The woman nodded, made a call, and within a few minutes the girl was on a stretcher with an IV and was whisked off into some room, Sam trailing behind. Two nurses swarmed around her, hooking up machines and inserting needles. Sam had hardly noticed Dean come in, and both stood helplessly to the side.

"What happened to her?" a nurse asked them.

"Don't know, found her on the side of the road," Sam lied. "Is she going to be alright?" The nurse shook her head.

"Only the doctor can talk about those things."

"But you know something," Dean said. "I mean you went to school for this, you have experience, you know something so just answer the question. Is she going to live?" he demanded.

The nurse gave him a pitying look, which only served to anger him more. "The doctor will be here soon; he can answer that."

"Listen, Sweetheart-," he started, but Sam shook his head.

"Maybe you should go take a walk, Dean."

Dean looked at him for a minute, frustration mixed with panic in his eyes. "Fine. But call me the minute the doctor gets here." Dean slipped out of the room, in search of some coffee.

* * *

Dean got back just as the doctor was coming in. After examining the girl himself, he confronted the two men sitting in front of him. "She has some bruising, a broken ankle, a concussion, and serious blood loss. I can set the ankle, give some pain medication for the bruising, and stop the immediate bleeding." Sam and Dean shared a look of relief. "But she's not out of danger yet. The real issues are the concussion and lack of blood. We will need to do a blood transfusion. She needs blood immediately, problem is we don't have enough for her."

"What?" Dean stood up. "Your a hospital, how can you not have enough blood?"

"You see, sir, her blood type is the most rare, AB-negative. We don't have a large supply because of the limited number of people with this blood type."

"I'm AB-negative. Use mine. Problem solved," Dean said.

"Well, that only fixes one problem. There's still the concussion," The doctor said. "The concussion, paired with the blood loss, caused a coma. Hopefully the blood transfusion will help her wake up, but even then it's possible she won't."

Sam had his head in his hands and Dean was still standing, glaring at the doctor.

"So what can we do right now?" Sam asked, lifting his head to look at the doctor.

"The blood transfusion. So if you, sir," he pointed to Dean "will come with me, we'll get your blood taken, tested, and go through with the transfusion." Dean nodded and followed the doctor out of the room.

Sam looked over at the girl, the first time he had really taken the time to see her. She was painfully thin, her face gaunt and arms limp. He slowly picked up her hand, lightly running his fingers over her bandaged wrists before peering closer for a better look at her face. Her brow was furrowed in a well-known look of frustration, and as he examined her, he saw the familiar shape of her nose. He shook his head and sat back against his chair, sure he was just imagining things.

About five minutes later, Dean came back with a Band-Aid in the crook of his elbow. Sam nodded at him as he sat in the chair on her other side. Both sat in silence, just watching the subtle rise and fall of her chest. When the doctor returned, carrying several tubes of blood and closing the door behind him, they looked up expectantly.

"This is going to work, right?" Dean asked.

"Oh yes. The procedure pretty straight forward. And the paternal bond helps." The doctor went about getting ready for the blood transfusion, ignorant to the brothers' identical look of disbelief.

"What? No. No, no. No, you're wrong." Dean shook his head. "I'm not a dad. I'd know, okay?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but the tests showed it. You are this girl's father. Oh, and her name's Guinevere Noelle Theton. Sixteen years old. Her mother's Ellie Theton," said the doctor, watching for Dean's reaction.

"Theton… Ellie Theton… _Oh_. Yeah…" he glanced over at Sam, who had been quietly watching all of this go down. "Demon case in Dayton, Tennessee," he whispered to him. "You were gone at college and Dad was off on his own hunting trip."

Sam nodded slowly. "I can't say I'm surprised. She even looks like you." Dean sat down hard in his chair, and rubbed his face while the doctor hooked up yet another tube to Guinevere.

"But Guinevere, though?" Dean protested.

"Did Ellie have a thing for the renaissance?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged. "I don't know, man. Let's be honest, I didn't take time to get to know her. I mean, it's pretty but not…" He trailed off. "I wouldn't have named her that. "

"That's not really your choice, though is it?"

Dean sighed. "I need to get outta here or I'm gonna go insane. I'm going for a drive."

Sam scooted his chair closer to Guinevere, his niece, once the doctor was gone. That freaked him out a bit. His niece. He knew Dean always messed around too much and knew it could get him in trouble sometime. But a daughter? That was hard for him to wrap his head around, he couldn't imagine Dean having to take that in right now. He shook his head, as if to clear it, before standing up and heading to the cafeteria.

Dean flew down the road, having no idea where he was or where he was going and not caring. The more thoughts that flooded his mind the faster he went, so when he sped past the police officer on the side of the road, he didn't even try and get out of being pulled over, which was a first for him. He knew he should be getting back, but instead going to the hospital he headed to a bar he passed when they first came into town two days before.

At the bar, he tipped back whiskey after whiskey until he felt a soft hand on his arm. The arm belonged to a gorgeous brunette, wearing in a scanty dress, who asked him if he was alright.

"I'm not sure how you could be, I've lost track of how many drinks you've had. So what is it? Was she sleeping with you best friend?" She took his drink from him and sipped it herself.

Dean shook his head and scoffed. "No. If only it were that easy."

"That's your view of easy? What is it then, baby?" She got Dean a glass of water, still nursing his whiskey, gazing at him seductively.

"I have a daughter." Dean looked at the mystery woman. "Can you believe that? A daughter. A beautiful, unconscious, tortured, sixteen year old daughter."

The woman nodded slowly at that before sighing heavily. "I'm gonna go then. You've got your hands full. I should've known, really. Only guys with issues go to a bar on a Thursday afternoon."

"Yeah, that's probably true." Dean nodded at her. He gulped the rest of his water before heading back out to Baby. He didn't get to the hospital until around five in the afternoon to find Sam passed out in a chair, a styrofoam container full of untouched food abandoned on the table next to him. Sam stirred as Dean shut the door behind him.

"Hey." Sam rubbed his face before checking his watch. "I figured you'd head back to the hotel and I'd stick around here."

"Nah, you need your sleep, I can stick around." At Sam's concerned look he scoffed. "What could possibly go wrong? Come on, get going. Get some sleep, Sammy." Sam dumped his food in the trash as Dean took his seat next to Guinevere. Dean waited until Sam had shut the door behind him before pushing the chair closer to the bedside. "Alright. So. You're my daughter." He rubbed his face. "Um, okay, some things about me. My name's Dean, if you didn't know that. Dean Winchester. That was Sam there, my little brother. Your… uncle I guess. He's a good guy, better than I will ever be. I spent my whole life looking after him, protecting Sammy. And he's protected me just as many times. That's what we do, we save each other. And others; the world really. We're hunters, not like that guy who killed Bambi's mom. Like demons, werewolves, vampires. They're all real, which I guess you know. That's how we found you, in a vamp's nest. I guess I should start at the beginning, though, if I'm gonna do this right."

For the next two hours, Dean told his daughter what the past ten years had held. He told her of all the pain, death, and loss, ending with: "I probably shouldn't have told you all that. In fact, I really hope you can't hear all this. If it was my choice, you'd never know about the crap that went bump in the night. You deserve better than that. But it's not my choice, huh? Some vamp got to decide for me. Anyway, I just wanted to… I don't know tell you. I don't even know you but I just wanted you to know what's happening. And I want you to know I didn't expect all this. So if I'm a jerk, which I can be, don't ever think it's because I don't care about you or some crap. I do, even if I'm just some random guy. You're my daughter and I'm gonna keep you safe and protect you with everything I've got. And I always will."


	3. Chapter 3

It had been four days since Guinevere had been found, and every day that slipped away made the possibility of waking up slimmer and slimmer. Dean hadn't left the hospital, passing out in chairs only when he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. Sam would come in to switch with him and find him, head in hand, elbow on the knee, dead asleep. Occasionally Sam would hear Dean talking to her, either standing and pacing or head in hands. On the fourth day, Sam came in and shook Dean awake.

"Dean. Hey, I've been thinking about it and I think we some help," Sam said. "I don't know how long we're going to be able to stay like this."

Dean immediately jumped in. "I'm not leaving her."

"I'm not saying you should, I'm saying that I think we need some heavenly intervention." Sam looked at Dean carefully. "I know how hard it's been on Cas lately, but I don't know if she's going to get through this. I just spoke to the doctor and he said if it was the loss of blood she would have woken up by now. I know that Cas is struggling but-"

"I've been thinking the same thing," Dean said. "We need him."

"Really?" Sam asked, surprised.

"Yeah. It's been rough on him, but he's supposed to have been resting. Maybe he can work some magic and she'll wake up. I don't know what I'm supposed to with her after that but I can't watch sit here watch this."

Sam nodded, watching Dean, eyebrows drawn together. "Cas'll be able to do something. I'm sure."

Dean nodded. "Watch her for a sec. I'm going on a walk." He made his way down the halls to the sanctuary on the third floor of the hospital. Taking a seat in the back, he leaned on the back of the pew in front of him. "Alright, Cas, time to speak up. You've had your day off, now we need you back." Dean glanced around, and bowed back down. "Come on, Cas, please. We need you. I need you. Please." There was a rustle and Dean looked up to see the angel peering down at him.

"You look terrible," Cas said, so sincerely Dean almost laughed. "What's wrong? Is it Sam?"

Dean rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. "No. No, Sam's fine. It's, uh, it's someone else. And we need help asap." They were quiet as they made their way back to the room. When Cas saw Guinevere, he stopped in the doorway.

"You have a daughter."

Dean sighed. "Yeah. Her name's Guinevere. And she's dying and I can't do anything about it. I know you're weak Cas, but I'm sorry. I can't watch her die like this."

Cas nodded. "I understand. Let me take a look." He made his way into the room, nodded to Sam, and placed his hand over her head and a white light glowed poured over her face, flickering at the end. When he stepped away she seemed the same, albeit a look of frustrated restlessness across her face. "Guinevere?" The girl's eyebrow twitched. Dean leaned over her, tentative relief on his face.

"Guinevere. Hey." He hesitated, hand reached out, before pushing her light hair away from her eyes. Slowly, she opened her eyes, a mirror of his own green ones. "Hey, Sweetheart." Guinevere lurched back, or tried to, looking around the room, taking in the three men standing next to her bed.

"Wh- who are-?" she broke into a coughing fit that took her breath away.

Sam grabbed a plastic cup, filled it with water, and placed it on the table. She nodded her thanks before sipping from the cup. Dean was looking at her with such intensity, still in her face, that Sam had to pull him back a little. "Give her space to breathe." Dean nodded idly, still watching her. "My, uh, my name's Sam. This is my brother Dean, and our friend Cas. We're the ones who picked you up on the side of the road." Guinevere glanced between the three of them, her eyes settling on Dean.

She nodded at him. "What's wrong with him?" Her voice was hoarse, scratchy like she had sandpaper in her throat. She swallowed hard before downing the water, which Cas promptly refilled. "Why's he staring at me like that?" Sam cleared his throat, looking at his brother expectantly. When Dean didn't still say anything, he intervened on his behalf.

"He was really worried about you. You've been under for the past four days. We weren't entirely sure you'd wake up." Guinevere nodded slowly, her face still showing mistrust. But before she could say anything, she broke into another coughing fit, this one a little longer. "Let me get the doctor." Sam paused before getting up. "Uh, don't worry about Dean. Cas, you'll watch her, right?" Sam waited for Cas's nod before leaving, giving Guinevere a thumbs-up as he stood in the doorway. Cas pushed Dean into a chair before sitting down himself. He cleared his throat, looking uncomfortably at Dean, then Guinevere.

"My name is Castiel. I'm an ang-"

"No!" Guinevere jumped when Dean finally spoke. "Sorry. I need to talk to Cas for a second. Cas?" He pulled Cas out the door, shutting it behind him. "I'm not ready to tell her about all that crap, Cas. Someday maybe, but I don't want her to have the life we did. I want to live a normal life."

"Dean, she lost her mother and was attacked by vampires and has you as a father. She's a part of this now."

"Cas," Dean's voice grew hard. "This is my choice. She is my daughter. I know this is out of my hands. Don't you think I realize how screwed up this is? But I refuse to raise my daughter to be a hunter. I refuse to put her in the same position Sammy and I were in. Someday she will find out, I know that, and I realize it'll be sooner rather than later. But let me choose the time." With that, he went back into the room, shutting the door behind him.

Sam jogged up the hallway, where Cas was still standing, frowning. "What was that about?"

"Dean is refusing to tell Guinevere about the nature of your work."

"I take it you disagree? I see where you're coming from, but I think we have to let Dean take this one. Give him time; he'll make the right decision, and I think he knows that the only way this is going to work is with honesty, but he gets to figure that out on his own."

"So you agree with him? You'd do the same?" Cas asked.

"I don't know what I'd do." Sam shrugged. "We just got to back him up with whatever decision he makes." With that, Sam met his brother and niece in the room, leaving Cas outside. He glanced around before disappearing with a light _whoosh_.

Dean glanced up when Sam came in. "Hey. Where's the doc?"

"He's on his way." Sam turned to Guinevere. "Hey Guinevere, how you doing?" Sam asked, sympathy in his voice.

"I'm okay. I'm alive at least." She dragged a hand through her ragged hair before adding, "I actually go by my middle name… Ashton."

Sam nodded. "Oh okay. Ashton. Pretty." After a short pause, Ashton spoke.

"So… why you guys? I mean, I know you found me, but why not just leave? Why do you all care?"

Dean glanced up at Sam. "Um, well that's actually kind of funny. Because… I'm your father. I don't know how this happened, how I found you like this but-" He broke off when he saw Ashton's face. Her eyes were wide and glistened, making the green stand out even more prominently.

"...What?" Her voice broke. "I… you… You never called. Mom never said anything. Not even a name. I thought you were dead. I thought you didn't care" She tried to keep from crying.

"I didn't know." Dean spoke quietly. That was all he needed to say. Suddenly the door burst open and there was the doctor. Quickly, Ashton wiped her eyes.

"Sorry 'bout that folks. How's she doing?" He turned to the battered and bruised girl, with a smile.

Ashton flashed him a quick and empty smile before responding. "I'm okay.".

The doctor was already moving, washing his hands and pulling on purple, latex gloves. "Let's just make sure everything's in order." He gently touched her bandaged foot, and she winced in pain. "Okay, seems to be healing well. I'll get you some pain medicine for that. You'll need the soft cast on for another two weeks." Next he held out his hands for her own, unwrapping her wrists to reveal ugly purple and green bruises and oozing wounds. "I'm going to have to get some ointment for these, and you'll have to change the bandages once a day." He moved up to her neck, pulling away a large square of gauze taped to the right side of her neck. Underneath one could see dozens of little scabs, swollen and red, oozing blood and pus. He shook his head. "Looks like that got infected. What happened to you anyway?"

Ashton shrugged. "I'm not entirely sure. I don't remember anything."

With that, he pulled off his gloves and through them in the nearby trash, before pulling out a flashlight and shining it through her eyes. When he was done he turned to the two brothers, sitting anxiously by the bed. "Everything looks good. She's a tough kid she'll bounce back just fine. The only thing is her memory. I'm going to assume mild amnesia." He turned to the girl. "Whatever happened to you led to a concussion, a serious one. You may or may not get your memory from that time back. We'll see. Let me grab some medicine for that infection and write up a prescription. You should be good to take her home tomorrow," he said as he scribbled his in a notepad. He ripped off the note and handed it to Dean. "I'll send a nurse in with ointment and they can show you how to wrap her wrists and neck." With a nod to each of them, he was gone. After a minute, Ashton broke the silence.

"So…" she said, eyes looking back and forth between Dean and Sam. "Home. Where's that?"

Dean glanced at Sam, who met his gaze with apprehension. "That's a, uh, more complicated question than you'd think." Ashton's eyebrow quirked up, a frown wrinkling her forehead, a mirror of Dean's own look of doubt.

"How is that complicated?"

"Can Dean and I talk for a second?" Sam pulled Dean to the hallway, Ashton watching them go, her frustration evident. "Dean, how the heck are we supposed to take her back to the bunker?" Dean shook his head.

"I don't know man. For now, let's just crash at a motel and work it out from there."

"I know you don't like the idea of telling her, but she's going to find out if she's going to live with us. If we're going to keep her." Sam spoke carefully; he knew he was in dangerous waters.

Dean glared at him. "She's not a stray dog we can send to the pound, Sam. She's my daughter. I'm not abandoning her. We'll just have to figure something out."

Sam nodded. "Okay. I'm with you, whatever you choose to do. And hey, I found us a job." He held up a newspaper, flipped to the obituary section. "Some guy ripped his door off its hinges to get into a house then proceeded to claw a woman's heart out. Sound like demon possession to you?"

Dean looked at his brother, aghast. "You want to work a case with her right there? You've got to be kidding me Sam."

"Think about it, Dean. It'd be the perfect excuse for not going directly home. We can figure out what to do with her in the meantime. We'll be careful, leave her at a motel while we do our work."

Dean frowned at him for a moment before, nodding slowly. "Fine. I'll talk to Cas, see if he can stop in a keep an eye on her while we're away. I'm going to tell her, Sam. I know I have to. But I need time. I need to do this the right way."

"I hear you, Dean. I get it." Dean nodded before heading back into the room.

The next day Sam wheeled Ashton into the parking lot while Dean pulled Baby to the front. Ashton smirked at him as he opened the back door for her. "This is your car?" At his nod, she said, admiration in her voice, "It's awesome."

After a few minutes of driving, Sam broke the silence. "Listen, Ashton, we're going to crash at a motel for a bit, just until we can figure out how this is going to work."

"What do you mean?"

"We were on our way to a job when we found you. We've got to take care of some business nearby, and then we'll talk about going home," Dean interjected.

"Ok-ay. That's fine, I guess. So what do you guys do?" Ashton didn't understand this. She knew she was a burden, that was nothing new, but she didn't understand the secrecy involved. They could've just left her at the hospital, authorities would have found her another foster home and she'd figure out where to go from there. She strained to remember what had led to her ending up on the side of the road, but the strenuous exercise sent pain coursing through her head.

"We're exterminators." Sam interrupted her thoughts. "We have a job we've got to take care of first."

"Really?" Ashton asked, her voice a touch disappointed.

"I know. Not the sexiest job in the world but it's what our family's always done." Dean glanced at Sam. He looked at Ashton through the rearview mirror, taking note of the dark, sleepless circles under her eyes. "Why don't you get some sleep kiddo? I'll wake you up when we're close."

Ashton nodded and was just about to lay down when Dean handed back a plaid shirt.

"You can use it as a pillow. If you want," he offered. She took it thankfully, a small smile forming on her lips. After stuffing it under her head she leaned back and promptly fell into a nightmare-ridden sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey…" Dean gently shook Ashton. "Ash, we're here." Though she had been deep asleep only moments before, Ashton shot up, eyes wide and panicky. "Hey woah there." Dean took her by the shoulders, peering into her eyes with concern. "You okay? How'd you sleep?"

Ashton shook her head clear, wiping a hand over her tired face. "Uh, yeah. I mean I slept fine." In truth, she hadn't. She had horribly real dreams of being kidnapped and tortured for weeks. But she was under the impression that her father was not exactly a huge fan of talking about feelings. Her father. That was weird. When she was little, kids just asked where her daddy was, why he never came on field trips or school plays. As she got older, the questions were less curious and more taunting. The names grew worse as kids realized her dad didn't want her. And now, years of name calling and now here he was saving her from her nightmares and holding her. And as nice as it was to feel his concern, she couldn't help wondering why her mom never called him, never mentioned him. Who was this guy that after one night her mother couldn't stand to see or talk about him?

"Here, give me your hand and Sam'll take the stuff in. We already got the room." Dean broke her thoughts. Slowly, painfully, Ashton made her way in, leaning primarily on Dean,her ankle still throbbing and her head spinning. She sat down immediately on one of the beds, taking a breather, watching quietly as the boys played rock-paper-scissors for who had to sleep in the recliner. Dean promptly lost, brushing away some snide remark made by Sam. Taking a deep breath, she broke the silence that had filled the room, as Sam grabbed his computer and Dean pulled a beer from a six-pack in the mini fridge. "I'm taking a shower."

They looked at her in surprise, as if they'd forgotten she was there, which they probably had.

"Okay," Sam said. "Do, um, do you have any clothes other than the ones we found you in?"

Ashton glanced down at her current attire. She was swimming in one of Dean's shirt and sweatpants given to her by the hospital. Her old, ragged pair of jeans and ripped t-shirt were in a plastic bag by the door. "No…".

"That's fine. I can grab you something. There's probably a store around here somewhere that sells clothes." Dean jumped up and grabbed his keys off the table, stopping to pick up the old bag of clothes. "As a size reference", he explained.

Ashton undressed carefully, painfully aware of her bruised arms and legs and bones sticking out at odd angles. Gingerly she peeled off the soft cast and stepped into the shower. Grime swirled down the drain, a light brown and red-tinged trail of dirt. She scrubbed her hair with shampoo, rinsing her hair before rewashing it. As she rinsed again, her fingers brushed the side of her neck and a searing pain burst from the point of contact. She stumbled forward in pain, one hand on her neck the other supporting her full weight against the shower wall. She closed her eyes in pain and her head began to throb, but the reprieve she sought would not come. She clutched her head in pain, losing her stability when she removed her hand from the wall. Her head slammed into the wall then, losing all consciousness.

A haze kept her from seeing clearly. Straps cut into her wrists. She felt blood ooze down her skin, a sick tickling feeling covered her as it dripped from her neck. A metallic taste filled her mouth; she tried to swallow it down, but bile rose in her throat. There was a loud clang to the left and she flinched in fear. She tried to turn her head but winced in pain at the wound in her neck. Footsteps. They grew louder until they stopped right behind her head. She was shaking with fear, teeth rattling. A hand reached down, brushing the tangled, dirt-encrusted hair off her forehead. She flinched, hard. The hand grabbed her face, rubbing a thumb over her swollen cheekbone.

"Shhh. Hush now." A gravelly voice whispered next to her ear. She responded with a whimper as the thumb trailed down her jawbone, dusting over her neck. With one hand on her shoulder and the other pushing her chin in the opposite direction, he leaned over and sunk his teeth into the wounds. Her scream filled the room as the man dig his face into her neck, twisting his razor teeth into her vein. After a minute, he pulled away, wiping the blood from his mouth. A dirty rag was pressed against the wound, but despite the pain running through her, she was too weak to cry out. Tears filled her eyes and she dry-heaved, sickened by the smell of her own blood. The man leaned over her, one hand pressed to her chin and the other clasped around her arm, leaving purple bruises lingering on her face and lower forearm. He pressed his bloody lips to her own, biting her lower lip in his passion. She pressed her head into the pillow in an effort to evade him, but to no prevail. After a moment he pulled back and sighed, patting her dirt-covered, tear-stained cheek. "Sleep tight, sweetheart." Spots drifted over her vision as she slipped back out of consciousness.

Dean came home to find Sam passed out on the couch, TV playing quietly in the background, Ashton nowhere to be seen. "Ash? Ashton?" He dropped the bags that ran over to the bathroom door, banging on it loudly. The water was running but he didn't hear any movement. "Ashton!? Open up!" Sam stirred on the couch but upon hearing the panic in Dean's voice he shot up.

"What's wrong? Why isn't she answering?"

"I don't know Sam, I come in and you're sleeping while she could've drowned herself!" Dean's fear had turned to anger. "Get back." Dean took a step back and swiftly slammed the sole of his boot next to the lock. The door busted open and Dean rushed in, followed quickly by Sam. Dean yanked the shower curtain open to find Ashton slumped against the wall, pinkish water pouring down the drain. Sam threw him a towel and he scooped up the girl. She was so skinny, so light in his arms Dean's eyes filled up. He watched her ribs rise and fall, each bone sticking out at an odd angle, sharp and angular. He carried back to one of the twin beds and lowered her to the mattress, draping a blanket over her pale body. Dean stepped back as Sam grabbed a bundle of paper towels and pressed it gently to her head.

Ashton peeled her eyes open, still reeling from the vision. Dean was leaning over her, a piece of gauze in his hand, applying gentle pressure to her head.

"Hey, honey." His voice was soft and gruff. "It's been a while."

The scene was too familiar for her and she felt something creeping up her throat. She leaned over and retched on his shoes. "Sorry," she coughed out, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Yeah. That's alright. Get some sleep." Dean glanced at his shoes, covered in bile, and dragged a hand over his ragged face. Ash had been out for six hours, six hours of worrying, stress, and hushed discussions with Sam. He sagged back in relief; she was okay. There were a thousand other battles to fight, but right now she was okay. The image of her limp body in his arms still haunted him. A gentle tug on her shirt revealed bony hips and ribs jutting out disturbingly, and the veins and tendons on her arm popped out of her translucent skin. She was a strong kid, Dean could see it in her eyes, but he was determined to protect her. He had to. It was his job and thus far he'd failed to accomplish it. Instead, she'd spent years believing he didn't care, he didn't love her. It broke his heart- he could see in her a certain hardness that he had seen everyday in the mirror. Anger, anger and frustration so deep he doubted she knew of it. His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening; Sam was back with food.

"Hey. How's she doing?" He dumped styrofoam containers on the rickety 80's table by the window and walked over to the bed, perching on the edge.

"She woke up, threw up, and fell back to sleep." Dean scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "She's okay."

"Good. We still gotta keep and eye in her. We don't know what those vamps did to her."

"No yeah I know. But a battle at a time. I'll take it, you know?" Dean brushed back her hair and kissed her sweaty forehead. Carefully he leaned down and untied his shoes before throwing them in the tub. Sam handed him a container of fries with a double bacon cheeseburger nestle in the middle. "Thanks, man." He shoved a fry into his mouth- he'd been too busy worrying about Ashton to worry about himself.

"So, I was reading." Sam avoided Dean's eyes. "In the newspaper this morning, the obits. This other girl, a soccer mom, beat in two other ladies heads in with a bookend. There was a fourth girl there too, she was not unconscious, not killed, thankfully. What do you think, you want to talk to her?"

Dean slurped his soda. "Hmm."

"What?"

"Sam, this is my daughter. You know that right?"

"Yeah Dean.'Course I know that. What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means we've got to come home at the end of the day. It means the guns blazing might need to be taken down a notch. And we've got to factor her into the equation now. There're stakes now, Sammy. We've got to come home at the end of the day. I've got to."

Sam furrowed his brow, facing his brother full-on now. "I know that. I know. She's a part of the family now, I get that. And that means she gets taken care of and we protect her."

"No, it's more than that. I have you, and Cas and we've had Bobby and there's others, hunters. Ashton has no one. She's lost it all, everyone. I'm it for her. She needs me, right here."

"Dean, I know that. I'm her uncle, too, you know. I care about her, too."

"I know you are. That's not my point. My point is demons, vamps, Lucifer, Crowley, I don't care. You and I got to make it home. No matter the circumstances, no matter the big bad. She needs us and we are going to be there. Alright?"

"Alright, Dean I get it. There's no need to make it sound like we throw ourselves at death."

"You're joking, right? Sam, that's exactly what we do. We invite Death to our Christmas parties. We run at him with open arms. How many times have we offered to sell our souls to each other? This is a whole new game changer here, Sam. Because she comes first. No matter what. So I don't care how I will do everything to get home at the end of the day. I've failed her for sixteen years. She's been alone for who-knows-how-long. Her mom's gone, she doesn't have anyone. I'm not going to leave her alone anymore. I left her alone for too long. I don't care how we get home, I don't care what kind of bat crazy situation we're in, I don't care what I have to hack, slice, or rip through to make it back at the end of the day. Whatever it is I'm going to do it. Whatever."

"Okay, Dean I get it. I know, okay? I know that everything's going to be different and we have responsibilities now. I know-" Sam started

"No. No, see you don't know. Because I look at that little girl lying there, having been through who-knows-what, and I have to deal with the fact that I couldn't protect her. I couldn't catch her when she fell, I couldn't keep her safe, I couldn't do anything for that girl. I will never forgive myself for that. I will always be the reason she has scars. I will always be the reason she has nightmares. It's my fault and I can't fix it. All I can do is make sure I don't leave her alone. Ever. And even that will never be enough. So no, you don't understand." Dean was standing now, his voice a harsh whisper in an effort to keep from waking Ashton up.

Sam took a step back. "Dean, I'm trying to be understanding and help you. I care about this girl, too. I'm not going to let anything happen to her. I'm here for you and for her."

Dean shook his head. "It's different. It's not the same. So I'll do the case, yeah, but nothing will keep me from her side. And I don't care what I have to do to get there."

Sam nodded and opened his mouth to explain, but in the bed Ashton stirred. Dean was up in a flash, talking before she could even open her mouth.

"Hey, stay there. I'll get you some water." He grabbed a glass and filled it with tap water from the sink. "Here. Sip."

Ashton swallowed slowly. "Thanks," she croaked out. "Can I have some food, please? Like toast maybe? Or crackers?"

Dean glanced at Sam, worried. Sam grabbed a plastic he'd thrown on the counter. Out he pulled a box of saltine crackers, a six-pack of ginger ale, and a multitude of smaller boxes. "I grabbed some medicine and light food. I figured you wouldn't be up to our usual dinners." Sam handed Dean a sleeve of crackers and a can of ginger ale, who nodded his thanks. Dean pulled Ashton up a little, helping her sit up to eat and drink.

"You didn't sleep very long there, Ash. How you feeling?" Dean hesitated before brushing her damp hair off her face.

She swallowed her soda slowly, considering her words. Her head was throbbing, she felt sick to her stomach (the crackers might not have been a good idea, though she was starving), and she could barely see straight. But looking at Dean's pleading face she mustered the biggest smile on her face as she could. Ash knew it looked more like grimace but Dean's face cleared, if only slightly. "I think I'm feeling better. Sorry about the shoes."

"No worries, I'll wash them later. How's your head? You took a pretty big fall." He combed his fingers through her hair.

"I'm okay I think. Nothing some aspirin can't fix."

Dean glanced over at Sam, who tossed him one of the small boxes. He shook out a couple pills and poured them into Ashton's outstretched palm. "So what happened?"

Ashton's tossed her head back, a sharp pain struck her head, piercing the thundering inside. After swallowing, she shook her head. "I don't know. I was washing my hair and I don't know, I just sort of fell…" she trailed off, considering the odd dream she'd had.

"What?" Dean saw her hesitation, his brow furrowing suspiciously.

"No, I just, I had a dream or something. No big deal."

Dean glanced back at Sam. "I'm going to grab a soda. I'll be back later." Sam grabbed Baby's keys and left, the engine starting with a pur before roaring out.

"Okay, now talk to me. What happened? Please, I won't be mad or anything. Just talk to me." Dean sat back on the bed.

"I don't know, I just." Ashton shrugged, picking her words carefully. "I was in this, like warehouse, right? And there was this guy, okay, and I was like in a bed and chained up and all torn up and he… I don't know, he, it sounds crazy, but he bit me. And I started bleeding and he, he licked my neck. Like he was licking the blood. It's crazy, right? Like just my imagination?"

Dean nodded slowly. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, just your imagination. Don't worry about it. It's nothing. That's all?" Ashton nodded, searching his eyes trustingly. "Get's some sleep, then."

Ashton nodded, lying back. "Yeah, okay. Good."

Dean took the can from her and grabbed the sleeve of crackers and placed them on the counter. He glanced back at his daughter, who'd rolled over, facing the wall. He leaned back against the counter, palms placed solidly on the counter edge. He closed his eyes tightly, exhaling through his nose. He wiped a hand over his face, before running his hand through his hair. Everything he'd wanted for her, even a semi-normal life, was too much to ask for. Her life would never be normal, and that was his fault. Everything he tried to fix, his attempts to keep her from the world he'd lived in, was already destroyed. He should've left her at the hospital. She'd go to a home and yeah it'd be rough, but she wouldn't be stuck with him. He swiped his arm across the counter the soda, pill bottles, and box of crackers crashing to the floor. Ashton stirred but didn't wake up. The bottles rattled around on the floor as the soda spilled into a puddle. After a minute, he grabbed some paper towels and wiped the ginger ale up, threw the bottles into a plastic bag, and placed the cracker box back on the counter. Sam would be back soon and they needed to start the case, and Ashton needed to get some sleep as well. He slumped into the chair, head in his hands, waiting for Sam to get back.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam and Dean slipped quietly around the room, careful not to wake Ashton as they grabbed they got ready. Dean grabbed the duffel bag full of knives, holy water, and shot guns. Sam nodded to the door and moved quietly out of the room. Dean started to follow but paused and turned back to Ash. He leaned over to kiss her forehead before pulling the covers further over her. He followed Sam to the door, glancing back one last time as he shut the door gently.

Ashton tossed and turned, terrible dreams plaguing her. A hand gripping her shoulder, prickling pain edging her neck and arms, voice rasping into her ear like demons taunting her. She woke up in a cold sweat, blankets twisted around her, tieing her down. The alarm clock's red eyes blinked at her; it was three in the morning. Shakily, she stood up, wrapping a blanket around herself as she shuffled toward the fridge. The fridge light made her feel exposed and stung her sleepy eyes, so she blindly grabbed a can of ginger ale before slamming the door. A half-eaten sleeve of crackers still rested on the counter and she grabbed them eagerly. As she turned to waddle back to bed, Sam's computer caught her eye. It sat on the table, its lid shut, and she stuck it under her arm before crawling back into bed.

The bright screen hurt her eyes at first, illuminating the space under the cover. As she adjusted to the brightness, a beautiful woman stared back at her, eyes wrinkling as she laughed at the person behind the camera. She sat on the floor, legs crossed, a baby sitting in her lap and a young boy, maybe three, clinging to her shoulders. His green and yellow eyes stared at her like she was the best thing in the world. A smile tugged at her mouth- she had those eyes. This must be Dean and Sam and their mom when they were little. Scrolling to the bottom she hit an minimized tab, hoping to search for the disappearance of one Genevieve Ashton. The tab opened revealing some dark website, with an anatomical sketch of a mouth, but not a human mouth. Too-skinny teeth ended in needles, spikes jutting out of a strangely large mouth in no apparent pattern. Scrolling down the side, she saw pictures of more such mouths, rubbery skin wrinkled and stretched away. These weren't sketches, these were pictures; she felt her stomach drop and tore to the bathroom. Shakily, crawled back into bed and reexamined the web page. Clicking back to the top of the page, she found an article- _Signs of a Vampire._ Ash skimmed it, disturbed and disgusted by the topic.

"Holy crap. My father is insane," she whispered to herself. "I gotta get out here. I gotta…" She paused in her panic. "Where is he?" She crawled out of bed and flicked on the light, Sam and Dean were both gone. Panicking, she looked for a phone. "I have to call someone, I have to…" She felt light, breath coming faster and faster. "I need… I…" Spots filled her vision, black peppering her sight as she dived toward the ground. The last she saw was Sam, pushing open the door with a duffel bag in hand.

* * *

"Ash!" Sam tossed the bag to the floor, on his knees cradling his niece in his arms in a flash. "Hey, hey, hey." He shook her gently. "Hey, I need you here. C'mon, c'mon hon." Slowly, Ashton's eyes peeled open, confusion turning to fear. She scrambled backwards on her hands.

"Get away from me!"

Sam held up his hands. "Hey it's alright. You're gonna be fine. I think you just passed out. It's okay, why don't you get back to bed."

"I need you to get away from me. Right now. Get away." Ashton held her hand up, keeping him from getting too close.

"Okay. Look I'll stay over here. Just, tell me what's up." He stood up and backed up to the table. Without turning around he pulled out a chair and sat down. Ashton crawled backwards before climbing back into the bed. Her eyes were wild with fear, distrust. "Dean went to go get gas, he'll be back soon. What's up, talk to me."

Ashton shook her head. "I- I saw your computer. With… the… _teeth_ … What the heck was that, Sam?"

"That's, uh- can we wait until Dean gets back? And we'll talk about this?"

"Fine. But you stay over there." Ashton watched him pull out his cell, mutter something to Dean.

Dean slammed his phone shut. "Crap." He tore off in the Impala, wheels squealing. Minutes later, the motel door slammed open, Dean in the doorway. "What's up?" He walked over to Ashton, making to sit on the bed, but she shot away from him, glaring at him from the other side of the bed. "Hey, okay, sorry." He sat on the edge of the recliner, glancing between his daughter and brother. "What's going on here?"

Sam shrugged. "I came in, she was on the floor, and I grabbed her. She woke up and shoved me off. Ash asked me to stay over here, keep away from her."

"She- you- you were on the floor? What happened?" Dean bore into Ashton, who stared defiantly back at him. "Ashton. Talk to me."

"I saw your computer." She glared him down.

"What?" Dean looked at her in confusion.

"Your computer. The… teeth." Ashton's voice shuddered and broke.

Dean shook his head. "Sweetheart, I don't know what you're talking about."

"I do." Ash and Dean turned to look at Sam. "I was doing research." Sam shrugged at Dean. "It's a theory, I was checking on something. I didn't think she'd see it."

Dean set his jaw. "Sam, what the heck were you thinking? Research? What were you looking for in the first place?" He shook his head. "I can't believe you, Sam. We'll talk about this later." He turned to Ashton. "Are you okay?"

"No, yeah, I'm swell. It's just I can't remember anything about my life and I'm stuck with a psychotic father and uncle." Dean flinched. "I wanted to see if there was anything on me or my mom. So I took your computer. I'm sorry. But what were you even looking up? What is _wrong_ with you two?" Her eyes darted between them, more fear than anger now. "And where were you guys at three in the morning? Exterminating?" Tears threatened to spill over.

Dean closed his eyes, too many thoughts running through his mind. "Okay. Alright. We have to tell you something. We are not exterminators. We hunt things, not deer and crap like that. We hunt monsters. Ghosts, demons, vampires… everything. It's all real. And we save people from all that. That's our job. That's where we were tonight, and that's how we found you. You were in a vamps' nest and we busted it and found you."

Ashton's was fully crying now, silent tears spilling over in full. "Okay you know what? I get it. I'm not an idiot, Dean. Okay? But if you didn't want me, you should have left me at the hospital for some foster family. You should have walked out of my life and never made yourself known to me."

Sam jumped in. "Ashton he's not lying, there are journals on all of this. Our father-"

"So I come from a family of insanity? Even better." Ashton swiped at her tears. "Whatever. I'll call 911 in the morning and say you guys left me here. They'll take me to a foster care and we can pretend this never happened, okay?" She looked tired, disappointed. Her eyelashes were muddied down with tears. "Please, just, can you be gone before I get up?" She rolled onto her side, facing the wall. She tried to stay awake, fighting the exhaustion that wieghed on her. She felt like kicking herself- how could she be so stupid to believe that this would actually work out? Silent tears continued to pour down her cheeks until she lost her fight and sleep overcame her.

Dean's head rested in his hands, elbows propped on his knees. Sam turned from Ashton to him, desperation in his voice. "C'mon Dean, call Cas. Take her to the bunker, something. I mean-"

A quiet "no" cut him off. Circles darkened Dean's eyes, wrinkles forming under his tired eyes. "I can't do that Sammy." Tiredness seeped from him- his voice, his slow movements, his eyes.

"What are you talking about, Dean?"

"No, Sam. This is our world. She shouldn't have to live in it. If it means losing her I'll lose her," he said.

"Dean, that's not fair. That's not right, she's supposed to be with us. We're her family!" Sam protested.

"No!" Dean scoffed under his breath. "I love her too much to put her through the hell we go through. We'll leave in an hour or so. I need some sleep first."

* * *

Dean slammed the trunk of the Impala before heading back into the room. Sam was already in the car; Dean had asked to say goodbye alone. Quietly he walked to the bed. Ashton ws still asleep, dried tears leaving trails down her cheeks. Her forehead crinkled between her eyebrows and her lips were set in a frown.

He bent down to be level with the bed. "Hey sweetheart. Look, you're right. I really do love you, and I mean desperately love you, but I was selfish. I wanted to be around you, get to know you… I wanted you. And I didn't want you to be alone. But I think…" He paused, setting his jaw. "I think being alone is better than being stuck with your screw-up dad. So I'm sorry. You're right. I should've just left you at the hospital and walked away and never let you get your hopes up about me, Sam, any of this. Please, just forget what I said last night. Please don't ever think about it again. Just walk away and pretend these past few days never happened. Have a good life, kiddo." He kissed her forehead and walked away.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean was never the same again.

Cas noticed it most acutely- Sam was used to Dean shutting others out, but Cas missed Dean's jokes and familial teasing. There was a shift after that night, and slowly Sam and Cas came to worry about him. Finally, Sam pulled Cas into the library to talk.

"How often does he eat?" Cas solemnly questioned Sam.

"Honestly, I don't really notice. I'm usually reading or sleeping in my room. This is a big place." Sam's mouth drew down, his lips puckered in anxiety. "But the fact that I haven't seen him or heard him much in the past few weeks is evidence that he's not doing well."

"Should we talk to him?"

"He's going to deny it."

"What exactly happened, Sam? I never was officially informed."

Sam rested his scarred arms on the old table they sat at. "We were out on a hunt while we thought she was asleep. She saw some research on my computer and got freaked. Dean tried to explain this life to her and she went nuts, she called him psychotic, told him he should have left her back at the hospital. She asked him to not contact her again, just leave her for foster care."

Cas held the edge of the table as he listened, confusion forming in his taut face. "What kind of research?"

"I have- had- a theory. Ashton was in that nest for a while, being fed on by several vamps. I thought she could have gotten bit, and I wanted to see what people had to say about the early signs of a vampire. I didn't close the tab and she saw it." He ran an agitated hand through his hair. "It's my fault, Cas. I should have closed the tab, locked my computer, something."

"Sam, how could you know she would look at your computer? And perhaps you _should_ have considered this possibility if what you say is true. But Dean's frustration is understandable. Had he never known his daughter he could have never lost her in such a way. Maybe we should continue to give him space?"

"Or maybe you guys should just mind your own business and shut up about me." Dean leaned against the doorway to the library, his arms cross and jaw set in anger.

"Dean, I'm sorry but we're worried about you," Sam tried.

"I don't care. I don't care if you are worried about me. I don't give a crap. And I'm not gonna. I'm not going to explain myself to you guys or try to justify why I've been distant." He began advancing to the end of the table. "And I'm not sure you can argue that I have been, because, let's be honest here, I'm stuck with you two day in, day out. Maybe I just need a break from you helicopter parents. So here's an idea- back off and stay back." He slammed his hands on the table in emphasis. He glared down at his brother and best friend, before turning back to his bedroom.

* * *

Sam hesitated before knocking, his hand paused in midair, a folder tucked under his arm.

"Just come in." Dean's tone was flat and hard- he was still angry.

Sam shoved open the door but stayed in the doorway. "Hey."

Dean sat with his back to the side of his bed, his gun in pieces around him a rag in hand, a leather bound book tossed to the side. "What Sam?" He didn't look up.

"I know you don't want to talk."

"Ding ding ding. Show the man his prize."

"So I found us a case." The folder landed soundly on Dean's carefully made bed.

"No." He didn't even glance at the folder.

"No?"

Finally he turned to his brother. "Yeah Sam. No."

"What are you talking about Dean? It's a case. It's a job." Incredulously he stared at Dean, mouth parted in shock.

"What was the girl's name again Sam? Emily? Amy?"

"Her name was Amelia, Dean. What does she have to do with this?" Anger forced him to stand up straighter, made his muscles tense up. Sam had been patient, he'd waited three days until after Dean had walked in on him and Cas, he'd bought cheeseburgers and french fries and pie and beer and left it in the fridge for him. He made a point of leaving Dean alone, giving him his space.

"Right, Amelia. Remember when you took a year off with her? Just, you know, left me on my own to fight out of purgatory?"

"Yes."

"Consider this my year off." He went back to cleaning his gun.

"What?" Sam stared down at his brother.

"You keep on doing your cases and solving your mysteries and killing bad guys. I'll be right here." He shoved a loaded mag into the reassembled gun.

"Dean, what are you talking about?" Sam slumped onto the bed.

He aimed the gun at his wall, shined a scuff mark on the handle. "Just that. I'm done. Call this my spring break. I think it's way overdue."

Sam scoffed, what was anger turning into confusion. "That's, Dean… is this about Ashton?"

Dean leaned forward, slamming the gun onto the shelf in front of him. "Nope." He turned to Sam. "Maybe I'm tired Sam. Maybe I'm exhausted. Maybe this life has taken it's toll on me and need a break. Ever think about that?"

"Well is that true?"

"Sure. So can you be okay with that and let me get drunk and sleep with hot girls and enjoy my spring break?"

"Uh, yeah. I mean, I guess. What about the case?" Sam was lost, and even more concerned, but he didn't know what else to say.

"Why don't you take your new best friend and go gank some monsters?" A new gun was being examined and unassembled.

"You want me to hunt with Cas," Sam said, mildly shocked.

"I don't want you to anything. Do you need my permission? Because I don't care what you do."

"Fine, okay. Well, I'll see you later then I guess." Sam grabbed his folder and left, dumbfounded.

After the door shut soundly, Dean tossed his gun to the side and grabbed the leather book he'd quickly abandoned when he heard Sam coming. He took the pen that marked his last page and continued where he left off.

... _I don't know what to do Mom. I feel physically sick because of this. When Sam left for college, and I came back and found nothing but a note and I had to deal with Dad, even that was bearable. There's some sick comfort when inner pain is matched by physical but now, I have nothing. I lost her. I hurt her. And every fiber of my being feels wrong. A father is supposed to protect their daughter, not hurt her. I keep thinking of how she looked at me when she told me to leave. Yeah I mean she was angry but there was so much disappointment, too. She looked like you. A lot like you actually. I wish you could have seen her. She was fierce too, a fighter. Probably had to be with the crap she's dealt with._

 _I keep imagining life if I'd married her mom. Picket fence and soccer games and potlucks. I could see her take her first steps and learn her first words and graduate and fall in love and walk her down the aisle. I keep looking into this future like there's any point, any meaning to all of this. In the end it's worthless. It's stupid. I'm not her dad. I'm just a guy who fooled around with her mom. I'm just the guy who broke her. And it's a damn shame she has to share blood with me._

Dean began journaling when he was with Lisa. She knew he couldn't talk to her about everything he'd gone through with Sam, and all he was going through without him, and she knew he wouldn't go to therapy. So she asked him to journal, to get his thoughts out and breathe and work out what he was thinking. And because he loved her with all his heart he'd done it. After a few weeks he'd found he'd been writing to Mary, and it made him happy to know that in some way he still got to talk to his mom.

* * *

Sam threw the bunker door open, Cas right behind him. "Dean." There was no response. "Dean!" He sprinted down the stairs, a yellow note on the dining room table caught his attention. The duffel bag hit the floor as Sam strode to the table and grabbed the note. Dean scrambled handwriting read- "off clubbing be back maybe". Sam scoffed and handed back the note to Cas.

"What does clubbing mean?" Cas asked as Sam ripped the note from his hands. He crumpled it and tossed it in the trash.

"It means he's having fun and he won't be back soon." Sam sighed. "I need coffee."

Light broke through one of the windows of the bunker, and Dean followed quickly. "Sammy! What a turnout tonight! Who knew there were so many bars nearby? The bar crawl started at eleven and will never end!" Dean careened down the stairs, the smoothed metal railing guiding him and supporting him. Muddling around the bunker he found his room, missing his handle several times before he finally shoved open the door and slumped onto his bed. The sun was setting before he was up again, throwing open the door to his bathroom as he emptied the entirety of his night into the toilet. Leaning over the sink, he rinsed his mouth out before stumbling into the kitchen where Sam and Cas were already eating.

"Dude, are you hungover?" Sam gulped his beer. He received a frustrated grunt and glare in reply. "I haven't seen you hungover in years. How much did you have to drink last night?"

Dean shrugged as he grabbed aspirin from the shelves. He slumped next to Cas and grabbed Sam's beer to wash down his pills.

Leaning into him, Cas sniffed his arm and frowned. "You have a blood-alcohol level of .378."

Sam scoffed. "That's like 25 drinks in four hours."

Dean shrugged again. "I'm not one to say no to free whiskey shots. Not that I care, but how was the case?"

"Straightforward shapeshifter. Took care of it fast." Sam replied.

Dean forced himself to steal some of Cas's fries, trying to keep some food down. "Swell. I'm going to shower. I'm meeting some my good friend Jack for another night of fun." He moved to the door, not even pausing from Sam's protest.

"You're going out again?"

"Spring break Sammy. Spring. Break." An hour later he roared out of the bunker's garage.

Sliding into the counter at the first bar he saw, he waved for the bartender. She sauntered over, looking skeptical at his request of 'a fifth of whiskey shots'. "Honey, that's sixteen shots, you ready for all that?"

"Don't question me, sweetheart. I know what I'm going in for." The bartender shrugged and poured him his drinks. He threw back six in the first five minutes, slamming them upside down on the table. "Woooh." The bartender was back, watching him gulp more shots.

"There's always tomorrow, hon. No need to drink us dry in one night. And tomorrow morning's not gonna be fun if you carry on like this all night."

"I don't need a psychiatrist, I need someone to keep the whiskey coming," he frowned at her, unimpressed.

"Fair enough." She nodded and refilled half his shots. "But between each fifth you're drinking a glass of water."

Three water glasses later Dean caved. "I lost my daughter."

The woman paused, watching him whither as the words took meaning. He'd lost his daughter. But it was even worse than it sounded. There was no closure like there was in death. There was only the emptiness that came from knowing she couldn't stand to be around him and he'd never get to fix it.

"You want to talk about it?" She asked.

He scoffed. "No. No it's too hard to explain." He tossed back the remaining shots. He stayed there, switching between shots and beer for the next two hours, before the bartender threatened to take his keys if he kept at it.

One very precarious drive later, he busted through the dark bunker. Making his way into his room, he dropped to his knees, head falling into his hands as a sob escaped his lips. Silently tears poured down his cheeks, the total weight of the last couple weeks breaking him. He hadn't completely shut his door however, and Cas, drawn by the sounds, peered into the dark room.

"Dean?" He stepped into the room where his friend knelt and leaned over to check on him, a hand on his shoulder.

A broken face turned to him. "I miss her, Cas. How could I have thought I could be enough for her? But I miss her so much."

Cas sat on the bed, watching over his closest friend. After a moment of speculation he spoke. "I could check on her."

"What?" Pain morphed into frustration as Cas's words sunk in. "No. No how would you explain that? She said stay away I'm not going to break my last promise to her."

"She wouldn't know I was there. I could just see where she is, if she's happy." It had taken years but finally Cas's voice had changed from the deep monotone into one of feeling, of compassion. "Dean, let me help you."

"Yeah. Okay. Just for a minute." Silently Cas was gone.


	7. Chapter 7

_Ashton stood in a dark, old kitchen, standing before an older woman who was going off about something. Cas stood next to Ashton, looking into her eyes. Makeup had smeared in the tired wrinkles under her eyes. Where there was once defiance and passion there was exhaustion, defeat. Even in his lack of comprehension to human emotion, Cas was disheartened by the sight in front of him. He could feel her discouragement, her brokenness. Finally, he tuned into the woman as she spoke, berating the young girl._

 _"...If you've got a problem with how I run my house you can leave. You can jump back on the street or run back to your psychotic father who doesn't give a crap about his worthless daughter! Understand?"_

 _Perhaps Cas only noticed it because of his abilities, perhaps the woman never saw it. But within her something broke. Another part of her fell apart, shattered. She'd flinched hard at the word father. "Yes."_

 _The woman reeled back and slapped Ashton, the force of her anger knocking the child into the dining table, causing a glass to fall and shatter. "Look what you've done!" A second hand hit her again, hard enough to send her sprawling to the floor, where she cut her hand against the broken glass. "Pick it up!" Blood oozed onto the floor as Ash gathered the pieces of glass. As she wiped up the blood with a towel the woman shook her head. "That'll teach you. Next time it's yes ma'am. You hear me?"_

 _A quiet "yes ma'am" crawled from Ashton's lips._

 _"Now go to your room. I don't want to see you again until tomorrow." A red mark bloomed over the girl's cheek. After a moment, she turned and walked down a poorly lit hallway, making a left into the second bedroom. Two bunk beds had been pushed against the walls adjacent to the door. Worn and faded sheets and pillows laid on the tables. A small lamp on a dresser across from the door was the only light. Another girl lay on the top bunk of one bed, headphones jammed in her ears._

 _"Harley?" Ashton spoke quietly, voice shaking. There's was no response as Ash collapsed onto the bed and stifled her shaky breathing. Closing her eyes, tears slipped down her cheeks silently. She examined her bloody palm, biting her lip as she pressed her shirt to soak up the blood. After a moment she collected herself and turned onto her side, facing the wall. Within seconds she was asleep._

 _Tilting his head, he watched over her for a moment, her breathing and furrowed brow, the way she'd curled up in a ball. After a few minutes, Harley was yelled for. She lept from the bed, landing with a thunk loud enough to cause Ash to roll over. In a flash Cas was gone._

Dean looked up from his bed, journal in hand as his friend appeared next to him. "Hey! Hey how is she? Is she… I mean is she okay? Just tell me she's okay?"

"She's fine, Dean. Ashton's good. She's… she's safe."

"Really? Thank- thank you Cas. I… thank you," Dean gasped as he collapsed onto the bed. "My head's killing me, I'm going to get some rest."

Dean flopped onto the bed; despite the pounding in his head he'd felt better than he had in days, months actually. Just the thought that maybe Ash was alright brought him peace.

The morning came around too fast, with Sam's fists banging on his door. Groaning, Dean shoved himself from the bed, running a hand through his thick hair. "What?" He growled at his brother, before tumbling onto his feet. "Sammy, why so early?" The door swung open, Sam leaning impatiently against the frame.

"Dude, it's two in the afternoon, relax." Pushing his way into his brother's room, Sam leaned back against the edge of Dean's desk. "You feeling any better?"

A smile pushed the sleep out of Dean's eyes; Cas's words made his heart feel lighter, like maybe he would be okay. "Yeah, uh, it's Ash." Sam cocked his head, encouraging Dean to go on. "I… Cas offered to check on her, and I said yes. He said she's doing okay, better than okay. He said she was good."

Sam couldn't help but smile at his brother. Dean had never looked so at ease, so happy. "That's great, Dean. Seriously. I'm really glad."

"Yeah, I know. I mean, I still miss her. God, I would give anything to have her here right now. But if she's okay that's all that matters. That's all I want."

Cas stepped into the room, the familiar seriousness cloaking his face. "I think I found another case."

"Slow down cowboy." Dean held up a hand. "I need a shower and sustenance. Sam, tell me you didn't forget the pie."

An hour later, the three of them were gathered around the table, Sam reading aloud an article about three women-murder from a nursing home in Wisconsin. "...Elise Bentley was found by her coworker, Theo Waring, on the morning of March 3rd, after Waring had come to carpool to work. Bentley was found in her kitchen, her kitchen and person covered in blood and vile, much like the other two women from earlier this month. Police have admitted that no new leads have been found and are at a loss for the next step."

"Yay," Dean sighed contemptuously. "My favorite- witches."

"How do you know this is witches?" Cas questioned.

"Who else would be so totally obsessed with bodily fluids?" Dean sipped his beer. "Alright let's go stake it out and check for hexbags." Cas nodded and was about to disappear when Dean grabbed his arm. "Nope. You're driving with us."

"Dean that is not prudent. I can be Wisconsin in seconds."

"Yeah I know. I want you to come with us. It's a gesture. Accept it. We'll leave in ten."

 _Ashton set the table, quietly placing each plate and piece of silverware at its proper spot. A boy, maybe 17, appeared in the doorway, watching her put a glass at each spot. When she'd finished she looked up to see the boy, freezing instantly._

 _"Hey Ash…" He took a step toward her and she began to shake._

 _"Stop." She tried to sound forceful but her voice wavered as he grabbed her arm, pushing her into the corner. "No!" She cried out, but he clamped his hand over her mouth._

 _"We both know that does nothing for you. Just chill." She struggled but his grip tightened on her arm and kept her from tearing away. He laughed. "Let's just have some fun."_

Rachel Gooding was painting her nails when one slid off her finger and fell to the floor. In horror she stared at the bloody nail bed as another dripped onto the floor. She retched in disgust, blood gurgling up from her throat. Rachel leaned over her toilet, choking on blood and bile.

Dean shot through the lock, banging through the door and wrapping an arm around her. "Sam! Hexbag. Now!" Sam threw products from under the bathroom sink. Cas searched the bedroom, tossing pillows from her bed and yanking clothes out of drawers. Reaching behind the dresser, Cas felt a small bag drop into his hand.

"Sam!" Cas tossed the hex bag to the floor, where Sam shot it. Rachel spat out extra blood, but her vomiting ceased.

"What the hell, agents?!" Cas disappeared a moment, returning with a water bottle. Rachel accepted it with a nod of thanks, wiping off the blood that still lingered on her chin.

"Let me see your hand." Cas held out his own hand, covering her bloody fingers. A white light glowed over her hand and Rachel watched in awe as her nails grew back in seconds. Rachel spun around slowly, looking at each of them in turn.

"Seriously guys what is this? You are not FBI agents. What did that?" Panic set in as she realized what all happened. Dean grabbed her arm as she began to shake and cry.

"Alright come here. You're going to be okay." He brushed her dark brown hair, one hand pressed against her back.

"Wh-what do I even do now?" The four sat around her table, Rachel gripping a beer.

"Get the hell out of Dodge, okay kiddo? Just- leave. Immediately. We're going to take care of this witch coven but you need to leave." Rachel tipped back her beer, gulping down the rest.

"Okay. Yeah. Thanks. Just please, never come near me again."

The three boys slumped into the car, Dean looking around the two of them. "Let's get dinner I'm starving."

Hours later Dean pushed open the Bunker door, Sam and Cas following close behind. "I am dead tired. Time to-" Dean stopped suddenly, Sam nearly bumping into him.

"Dean-"

"Shh." Dean pulled out his gun and scoured the lower part of the Bunker. "Who's there?"

Sam hit the lights. Cas pointed to the light table, a huddle form under the table. The three walked slowly down the stairs, creeping to the table. "Get up." Dean barked.

The girl shook as she stood, bruises decorating her arms and face. She was covered in dirt, tear tracks marking her cheeks. Her lips pulled away to reveal several rows of teeth jutting from her mouth. Dean stared at his daughter, gun lowered.

"Ashton?"

"Please. Please help me."


End file.
